Loss

These are the things I remember about the Gone Boy. Hazel eyes. Slippery black hair. Fluidity of motion. Chipped front teeth. Velvety skin. A goofy laugh. A whipsmart brain. He seemed indestructibly alive. I suppose his death was the first that made me realize how permeable the layer is between life and death, but it didn’t help me understand how to feel about it.

Today is a blue day for no particular reason. My children are thriving. My marriage is solid. We have money in the bank and a roof over our heads. I have the privilege of defining what I’ll do each day.

I’ve just finished watching a must-see documentary currently playing on HBO by famed war correspondent and filmmaker, Sebastian Junger (War, The Perfect Storm, Restrepo) called Which Way Is The Front Line From Here: the Life and Time of Tim Hetherington. Hetherington was

Here are a few things from my life. Thank you everyone for all your kind, well-wishes for my grandmother’s memorial service. It was so lovely all the words spoken that day were a testament to my grandma’s particular love. Here

Tomorrow I’m attending my 99-year old grandma’s memorial service in Santa Barbara. She is one of my greatest loves, so I decided to repost my love letter to her: My grandma Ellen turned 99 today, July 2nd 2012. She was

My friend Ion’s memorial service is on Saturday. It’s going to be at a lifeguard tower in Santa Monica where he worked and saved lives for years. I miss him today. I keep seeing flashes of moments between us from

I was working in my outdoor office last Thursday in the 90-degree heat when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the phone number, but I wanted to escape my writing duties for the moment and answered. A young woman’s

“We’re born in diapers and we die in diapers,” infamous words from my cowboy grandpa Rusty as my mom, aunt, grandma and I hovered over his deathbed. “You four look like a buncha buzzards waitin’ to finish me off. Come

My grandma Ellen turned 99 today. She was born in Wakeeny, Kansas, Trego County, July 2, 1913. We celebrated with wine and cake. I lay in bed with her last night holding her birdlike, blue-veined, sun-spotted hand, the one that

On Saturday my mom had a celebration at her home for her passionate, intelligent, macho, intrepid, intractable, loving, Rennaisance-Man-of-a husband Guido who passed away last September. My mom couldn’t face a memorial until now. Among his vast array of talents

Wednesday Epiphany: Love Is All That Matters My father-in-law passed away Sunday night. He’d been a young stage actor in New York. He’d been one of the original writers on Captain Kangaroo. He’d won a television Emmy for his work

September 16th at 9 a.m. my stepfather Guido (yes, Guido, will all the ardor for life that implies) passed away due to the repercussions of a stroke he had six-and-a half years ago. He was my mom’s fourth husband and

Here’s the problem with ice cream. You mean to eat it slowly so that your eating pleasure is in direct inverse proportion to ice cream’s legion, fat-propagating calories. But ice cream melts. You can’t eat it slowly unless you’re living